


A Moment, Then Silence

by Therapeutic_Steter



Series: Prompt Fics [22]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Deaf Peter Hale, Hale Family Feels, Hurt Peter, M/M, Stiles is Peters Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 23:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12664065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therapeutic_Steter/pseuds/Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: anonymous asked: Stiles takes care of a heavy injured Peter, who has permanent damage since then. The pack doesn't care, but Derek and Cora realise that he is family.





	A Moment, Then Silence

Eichen House was a special kind of hell. The Dread Doctors got their fun out of performing experiments on their supernatural prisoners, testing the limits of their bodies.

Peter used to try and be strong, used to try and hold it in. That only made it worse though, made them crank up their machines, push harder until he screamed. And it wasn’t like anyone was coming for him, wasn’t like he had any hope of breaking free.

Peter felt tears streaming down his face as they turned up the decibels on the sound they were playing in his cell. The sound was piercing, growing even more shrill, and it had been continuous for what felt like hours and hours. There was no relief, no avoiding it, and Peter cried as the sound somehow grew louder. He tried to cover his ears and his hands came away bloody. His hands shook before his eyes, blurry as more tears ran, and then he blacked out.

His ears kept ringing, even in the darkness.

…

Peter woke to silence. His eyes blinked at the ceiling and he wondered when they shut the sound off. He counted his blessings and slipped back into unconsciousness.

…

The next time Peter woke, an orderly was injecting a needle into his arm. They made no sound, not even their heartbeat. Peter wondered what spell they were using to hide it from him before the injection pulled him back under.

…

When Peter opened his eyes again, he was being strapped to a table. There was still no sound. His head lolled—he was still too weak and groggy to hold it steady—and he feebly tried to pull away. The orderly’s mouth moved, shouting, but Peter didn’t hear anything. Fear crept into him at the implication of that and another prick on the back of his neck pulled him back under.

…

Peter wasn’t sure what was happening. Red lights were flashing down the halls, but he couldn’t hear the alarm. The lights in his cell were off. He could feel vibrations through the ground. He watched the door. Lights shown through, momentarily blinding him, and he looked away. Then another vibration, stronger this time, shook the air around him before his door came bursting inward. Peter whined even if he couldn’t hear it, covering his head with his arms in a frantic attempt to protect himself. Then hands were grabbing him, pulling him to his feet. Peter pulled back, fear clutching him at the idea of going back under, going back to that table, but the hands held true. They cupped his face, forcing him to look at them, and he stared with wide eyes at Stiles’ face.

The boy’s mouth was moving, his eyes anxiously flickering all around them, but Peter couldn’t hear. Stiles kept talking, looking behind him and shouting at someone. Peter grabbed at him desperately.

“Can’t. Hear,” he tried to speak, but the words felt wrong in his throat. Scratchy after screaming and then not talking for so long. Stiles focused back on him for a moment, brow furrowed. “Can’t. Hear. Anything,” Peter tried again.

Stiles’ face was scrunched with determination or confusion or what, Peter didn’t know, but the boy nodded and he grabbed Peter’s hand before pulling him close. He pointed at Peter’s chest, then his own. “Follow me,” the boy said, slowly and deliberately. He had to mouth the words four times before Peter could understand, nodding and clutching at Stiles’ hand like the lifeline it was. Stiles studied him for a moment longer before turning and leading him out of there. He never let go of his hand.

…

He was deaf. There was no denying it. The experiments had kept him wounded for so long that his hearing had healed wrong, and there was no way to fix it. He sat in the silence of the loft, staring at his hands and wondering just what he was going to do now. Even if he did make a try for the Alpha spark again, there was no guarantee it would heal him. He was anchorless, drifting aimlessly, and all he could do was wish that someone would just kill him. Why was he so determined to live, fighting through every horrible thing that happened, when all it brought him was more pain?

Stiles was the only one he’d seen, the only one who would touch him kindly, so when a hand brushed against his arm, Peter knew who it was. The boy squeezed his arm, earning Peter’s attention. He was holding a notepad and a marker, looking concerned.

‘ _This was the only way I could think to answer your questions right now_ ,’ Stiles had written on the first page, showing it to him. He offered the notepad to Peter, moving to sit at his side. He was warm and Peter leaned just a bit closer, still feeling shaken.

‘ _Why did you come?_ ’ He wrote slowly, fingers still shaky. He passed the notepad back over to Stiles.

‘ _It’s a long story,_ ’ Stiles started, frowning. ‘ _Basically, the Dread Doctors starting attacking the Pack using a shifter named Theo. Theo kidnapped Lydia and they were going experiments on her. It also turns out I’m not quite human and I broke her out as soon as I figured out where she was. I wasn’t going to leave you in there though. Not knowing the shit they were up to._ ’

Peter frowned, pointing at the ‘not quite human’ part and looking at Stiles questioningly.

Stiles hesitated, biting his lip. ‘ _Void left some…residuals in me. It’s gone, but I have…power. At least some._ ’

‘ _You’re a mage,_ ’ Peter wrote. Stiles nodded slowly, holding his hand up and leaning it back and forth in a ‘sort of’ motion.

‘ _I can’t heal though_ ,’ Stiles wrote, slowly and obviously reluctantly. Peter nodded. He hadn’t even gotten his hopes up about that. It would take powerful healing magic to heal his hearing at this point and no beginner mage was going to be able to pull it off.

‘ _The others?_ ’ Peter wrote, looking around the barren loft. It was obviously abandoned, though it was probably still in Derek’s name. Dust had collected on most of the surfaces

‘ _Derek and Cora left a while ago,_ ’ Stiles wrote. ‘ _I think she was taking him to South America to show him her Pack? They never really said._ ’

Peter frowned, ignoring how that piece of information hurt. He didn’t know why he was surprised though. Derek had moved on before, him and Laura leaving him to New York without a thought of their coma-stricken uncle, so why would the boy think any differently now? He had maybe hoped that Cora might be different, that maybe she would show an inch of familial care but…Peter sighed, closing his eyes as the sting of abandonment crept up.

Stiles touched his arm gently, leaning against him. Peter could scent that he was worried, but he hadn’t written anything down and Peter didn’t want to try and read his lips. He rubbed at his temples. It was going to be a headache for a while, no doubt. It would take a lot of adjustment to get used to the silence, being locked in his own head again, all by himself. He’d need to start learning sign language too.

‘ _How long was I there?_ ’ Peter finally asked, staring down at the words, not looking at Stiles even as the boy grudgingly took the marker.  

‘ _Five months_.’

Peter looked at the words, almost not believing them. Five months. It seemed longer while in the hold of the Dread Doctors experiments; it seemed shorter when compared to being in a coma feeling Kate Argent’s flames against his skin for six years.

Unbidden, Peter felt water welling in his eyes as he stared at the paper.

“How did it come to this?” Peter spoke aloud, having no way of knowing if it came out as he’d wanted or not. He felt choked up, vulnerable, and the tears spilled. Stiles dropped the notepad, reaching out and pulling him into a tight hug.

Peter clung to the boy and wept.

…

Luckily, Peter had paid four months in advance for his apartment, so he was only a month behind and his landlord hadn’t evicted him and ransacked his apartment yet. Peter quietly paid off the outstanding balance along with the next four months. He didn’t want to take any chances, not knowing what was in store. Stiles stayed at his side, playing the part of the mouth of the operation, as Peter didn’t feel like trying to come up with something over a notepad. He didn’t know what story Stiles had weaved, but the landlord accepted his money with a nod and Peter had his apartment again.

He wanted to open the windows as soon as he walked into the apartment, but he felt fear creep in at the idea of leaving such blatant openings to his home when he wouldn’t be able to hear someone enter. Stiles seemed comfortable enough, snooping around his bookcase, so Peter went to his bedroom, standing in the doorway and staring at the still unmade bed.

He needed to change the sheets. He needed to go grocery shopping. He needed to clean the bathroom. He needed to learn sign language, and he needed to figure out what he was going to do, and he needed—

Peter startled when Stiles touched his arm, jerking away before shakily exhaling. Stiles looked concerned and Peter turned his head away.

Stiles tried again, reaching out and brushing down his arm until he could encircle Peter’s wrist. He gently tugged, motioning to the living room, and Peter reluctantly let him lead him from the bedroom.

Stiles had set up his laptop on the coffee table and there was a YouTube video open. ‘Beginning Sign Language,’ it said.

‘ _I thought we could both learn at the same time,_ ’ Stiles wrote on a piece of paper he’d found, showing it to Peter. Peter refused to acknowledge how his heart ached at the gesture of goodwill, of care.

Peter shrugged and Stiles motioned for him to sit on the couch beside him. Then the boy reached out and pressed play. Peter focused on learning the signs and let all the other hundreds of problems that he had drift away.

…

‘Hey,’ Stiles signed as he entered the door, the ‘doorbell’ having flashed in Peter’s kitchen to let the man know someone was coming. Peter gave a small smile.

‘Food?’ he signed with one hand, still sautéing the vegetables with his other.

‘Sure,’ Stiles responded, hand grabbing Peter’s shoulder casually and leaning over to peer into the pan. ‘What are you making?’

‘Chicken primavera,’ Peter spelled out slowly. Stiles watched each movement before nodding, grinning in understanding. They were both still learning, but it was working.

‘Sounds great! I’ll set the table,’ he signed quickly, moving to grab the plates and cups from the cupboard like it was his own. As often as he was over, Peter wasn’t surprised he moved so familiarly. He’d even noticed the little brat sneaking stuff onto his shopping list, though Peter always bought what he wanted anyways.

Peter brought the food over shortly, sitting across from Stiles and enjoying the other’s happy grin of excitement. Stiles bumped his leg under the table, winking while stuffing his face full. Peter wrapped their legs together comfortably.

‘Delicious!’ Stiles signed while still eating messily. Peter rolled his eyes fondly.

‘Of course,’ Peter responded.

Stiles narrowed his eyes even though his lips were quirked in humor. ‘Arrogant,’ he accused affectionately.

Peter grinned with too much teeth, tearing into a piece of chicken theatrically, and Stiles snorted, reaching for a napkin to wipe off the sauce from his face. Peter wished he could hear his laughter as he watched him giggle, his full body shaking with his good humor. He’d spent too much time before in planning his big comeback that he hadn’t taken the time to really pay attention to small things like Stiles’ laugh. Luckily the boy could still get a whole conversation through with just a look, but Peter missed their bantering with words. The layers you could put into a tone, the way you could shift a word’s meaning with a little change in tenor.

Stiles’ heartbeat was another thing Peter missed. The rabbit-fast thrum that was steady and unique to the boy.

Peter had taken too much for granted.

Stiles reached out, frowning in concern. ‘Okay?’ he signed.

‘In thought,’ Peter responded, sighing. ‘Nothing important.’

Stiles gave him a look, one that clearly read how much he didn’t believe him, but he let it drop. They finished up the rest of the meal and Stiles even helped put the dishes away before they both went to the living room, and Stiles loaded something on his laptop before cooking it to the TV.

It had taken some time for Peter to get used to watching TV with subtitles, not being able to hear the ambiance or little sounds made it impossible for him to watch anything without paying one hundred percent of his focus to the TV. He used to be able to multitask, check emails on his phone, watch TV, maybe read, but he couldn’t now. Half the time he ended up rewatching everything he and Stiles watched after the other had left because Stiles had a habit of telling him every little thing the episode made him think of and Peter would inevitably lose track of what was happening.

Stiles leaned against Peter once the episode started and Peter threw his arm over the back of the couch, smiling a bit when Stiles snuggled against his side to get more comfortable. This, too, was distracting, but Peter wouldn’t give it up. He turned towards Stiles, nuzzling against his hair and not even pretending to pay attention to the show anymore. Stiles reached up for his hand, pulling his arm around him and playing with his fingers familiarly. Peter could feel Stiles’ hum through his cheek and he growled lowly himself. Stiles shook with laughter, looking up at him with bright eyes, and Peter grinned.

Stiles startled then, frowning and looking down as he dug his phone from his pocket. Peter caught the name on the phone ‘Derek’. Stiles glanced over at him with a raised brow, confusion on his face, before he answered the call.

Peter still wasn’t great at reading lips. He was trying, but Stiles spoke fast, plus it was hard when he had no idea what he was supposed to be looking forward. Even just sitting beside him, Stiles could have a whole conversation and Peter had no idea what he was saying. It was frustrating and Peter felt himself scowling. He stopped though when Stiles hand started moving and he realized the boy was translating his conversation as best he could. He looked up and Stiles was looking at him with soft eyes.

‘So you guys are headed back?’ Stiles signed at the same time as he spoke. Peter sat forward, eyes moving from Stiles’ hand to his mouth, watching intently. ‘Awesome. I’ll let Peter know. Let me know when you have an idea of when you’ll be back,’ Stiles said, smiling. Peter was blown for a loop, that Derek knew he was out and hadn’t come back to shove him back into Eichen House. He’d been under the impression that his nephew hated him, wanted him dead and gone, but Stiles spoke like Derek would want Peter to know he was returning, like his nephew had plans to visit. ‘Later, dude,’ Stiles finished before hanging up.

‘So Derek and Cora are coming back,’ Stiles signed, still looking excited.

‘And they know about me?’ Peter asked somewhat nervously.

Stiles nodded. ‘I told Derek when I broke you out. I told him about your hearing too, so you don’t have to worry about that being a surprise.’

Peter bit his lip, looking down.

‘Hey,’ Stiles signed, pulling his attention back to him. ‘They want to see you. Both of them. They’re both really sorry about letting the pack put you in  _that_  place.’ He signed the word for ‘hell’ but they both knew he meant Eichen House. Peter shivered at the reminder. ‘It’s up to you if you want to see them, but they are sorry.’

Peter’s hands shook. ‘Okay,’ he signed, unable to say much more. Stiles reached out and cradled his hands in his own, offering a small smile. He leaned forward and kissed the corner of Peter’s mouth gently.

A little bit later found Stiles curled behind Peter on the couch, arms holding the man’s back tight against his chest. Stiles was humming, the vibrations coming through Peter’s body, and Peter closed his eyes, soaking in his warmth. Stiles kissed at the nape of his neck and, for just a moment, Peter felt no fear.

…

Peter was nervous as he saw the flashing light of his doorbell. Stiles squeezed his hand supportively, smiling. Peter took in a deep breath before standing and walking to the door.

Derek and Cora stood on the other side, both smiling somewhat nervously as Peter opened the door.

‘Hey, Uncle Peter,’ Cora signed before reaching out to wrap her arms around his middle and hugging him tightly. Peter’s eyes stung as he returned the embrace. He met Derek’s eyes over Cora’s shoulder and Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed with apprehension.

‘I’m sorry,’ Derek signed, just as perfectly as Cora had. Peter would deny that his lip trembled, knowing they’d worked to learn sign language before returning.

‘We both are,’ Cora added after pulling away, roughly wiping at the wetness in her own eyes.

Peter hesitantly extended a hand to Derek, unsure on his welcome, but Derek surprised him by grasping his hand and tugging him close. Peter accepting his nephew’s hug, scenting his shoulder and grinning cheekily when Derek glowered as he pulled away, though he had a smirk toying on his lips.

‘Come in,’ Peter signed, gesturing for them both to come in. He took a shaky breath as they entered, still a bit unsteady, but when he turned to see Derek and Cora being enveloped in Stiles’ famous hugs as well, he thought he just might be able to make this go around work.

Third time’s the charm, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me a prompt on [tumblr](https://therapeutic-steter.tumblr.com/)!


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